


Be Careful What You Wish For

by CavannaRose



Series: Harley Quinn Fics [11]
Category: Batman: The Animated Series, Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Abuse, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Knifeplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harley's bored and harasses the Joker until he does something about it. He's not a nice man. This is not a healthy relationship. This is not the fluff you were looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Careful What You Wish For

"Now cupcake, you know I'm busy..." Though the voice was meant to be reasonable, cajoling even, there was the hard edge of a threat underlying every charming syllable. The green haired villain was not the type to demonstrate patience, and oh was that gal of his the vexing sort. He really should just kill her and get it over with, but somehow, something about her always stayed his hand.   
  
"Aw puddin'..." She whined, twirling one pigtail around a finger, before weaving her whole hand through it and giving it an exasperated tug. "I'm _bored_." She could tell he was irritated, regardless how dumb she might act to keep up the image, she was smart. Smart enough to earn her PH.D, smart enough to snag the Clown Prince of Crime and keep him, smart enough to elude the big old Bat even though Mister J was willing to throw her under the bus to save his own skin every. dang. time. Sure she was risking his ire by distracting him, but if she didn't... well he could get all wrapped up in his own thing and forget she was there entirely. That was just unacceptable.  
  
" _Harley_." The warning was plain in his voice now, and she could see how he struggled to maintain that veneer of charm, he played her emotions like a master most days, but if she got under his skin just right, something real shone through. Sure sometimes that something was a violent monster and she suffered for it, but those glimpses beneath the mask, that was what she lived for. Part of her was still the psychiatrist trying to help a patient, it just got lost in the love and the joy of the chaos he'd introduced her to.  
  
The pale man stepped closer, into her personal sphere. He knew she wouldn't pull away, not his fearless girl. No matter how many times he proved he'd hurt her, she never flinched. Maybe that's why he kept her around. It was always nice not to be the craziest kook in the nuthouse. He justified it a thousand and one ways, but somewhere, deep inside of his twisted soul, he was kinda fond of the kiddo. That didn't mean he was going to be nice about it.  
  
Harley dug her toe into the ground, biting her lower lip and batting those infernally long lashes up at him. As if she was cute. Okay, so she was cute, but he was busy. Besides, she knew better than to interrupt him when he was working. They'd gone over it again, and again and again. Dogs learned faster than his blonde jester. The Joker raised his hand, tucking a finger under her chin to turn her face up to his, letting the full force of his fierce green eyes wash over her.   
  
"What's the rule about bothering Daddy when he's working?" She blushed, faking a chagrin she wasn't even beginning to feel. What was running through her was much more akin to desire, the place where his skin touched hers feeling like it was aflame. She was walking on the razor's edge here, and with him this close, her balance was just the smallest bit off. She was just as likely to push too far... If only she could think more clearly.  
  
"But you've been workin' _all day_ , puddin'. Can't we do somethin' fun?" Something about the pitch she reached on that last syllable snapped his control, rage flashing across his face as he released her chin, bringing his hand back around for a stinging slap across her cheek. The blonde stumbled back a few steps, hand going to her cheek. She'd seen him though, for a moment, the man under the clown facade. She stored it away inside, next to all those other glimpses, some in moments like this, some in moments more tender, usually when he thought no one, not even she, was looking.  
  
He watched the girl right herself, lip curling in a sneer. "Entertain yourself, someone around here has to get things done." He crossed the room, passing Harley and giving her a shove before she was fully balanced again, sending her sprawling onto her pretty derriere on the floor. As he slammed the door closed behind him, he heard what sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. Let her have a good cry, it would calm her down... but just in case... He turned around, fishing a key out of his pocket and locked the door behind him. She was known to get a little feisty after he'd been forced to put her down. No sense letting the little idiot get herself into more trouble.  
  
She just sat on the floor for a whole five minutes. He'd locked her in! Of all the nerve... She oughta take her baseball bat to the big galoot's forehead. Seriously! As if something as ridiculous as a locked door was enough to keep her out of the way. Standing up she dusted herself off before glancing around the room, taking stock of it all. She should just pick the lock and be done with it, but he might have stopped on the other side of the door, and she wasn't ready to express her ire with the green-haired psycho just yet. Instead she headed for the window.   
  
Satisfied that the girl wasn't coming right through the door after him, J returned downstairs to go back to his nearly complete plans. Honestly, if she'd just been patient a little longer he might have finished up and indulged the spoiled brat. Since he was downstairs, he missed the noises that accompanied one flexible female prying a sealed window right out of it's pane. More fool him.   
  
Getting out the window with that baseball bat of hers, that was a little trickier, but with a makeshift rope and some stunning acrobatics, she made it down to the ground floor relatively undamaged. Harley wiped the trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. That was either from J's little love tap, or perhaps from the half a story's worth of building she'd scraped her face along when she missed the dismount.  
  
Shaking it off she crept back towards the entrance of the warehouse, confident that she could slip past whatever inept goon's J had left at the door. Honestly, you could run the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade past these shmoes without them blinking an eye. It wasn't two shakes before she was inside and down the hall, towards the face-painted menace. She'd teach him a thing or two about what happened to those who locked Harley Quinn up.  
  
She paused as the door opened, but good ol' Mister J didn't even turn from his table. With the jester safely locked away, no one would dare interrupt him. He'd just gotten the final details down, and was going over them once more. Maybe he'd let her stew in the room for a while longer, teach her a thing or two about making him lose his temper- His train of thought was cut off as a rather familiar baseball bat came crashing through the computer monitor, sparks flying.   
  
Incredulous, he turned in his seat. She couldn't possibly have... There was /his/ Harley, chest heaving with exertion, bat raised for another swing. Oh ho ho... So that was the game she wanted to play, was it? He couldn't help but admire the bright colour that crazy put in her baby blues. She swung again and he caught the bat with ease. Perhaps she was angry, but she was also a mere 5'7 to his 6'5, and even sitting down that gave him a particular kind of leverage.  
  
Standing in one smooth motion, he tugged the bat from her hands, watching fear flicker across her angry face. Still she didn't back down. Fearless really was just another word for stupid, wasn't it? He was almost tempted to ask Crane for his opinion on the matter, but nothing was worth listening to that pompous windbag natter on. He adjusted his hold on the bat, his voice going dark and silky. "Did you require my attention, _Harleen_...?"  
  
She finally flinched, his use of her proper name like a nail in a coffin. Oh she'd gotten his attention all right... but could she survive it? Quinzel mentally shook herself, urging herself to put on a brave face. Bluff it until you believe it. "I hope I ain't interruptin' nuthin' Mistah J." She snarked, trying to smirk but managing little more than a watery smile.  
  
He ran his other hand over the bat, like a lover caressing something far more intimate, eyes hooded as he surveyed his wayward hench wench. She really was becoming most unmanageable. There was a time where a little love tap was enough to bring her to heel, but clearly something more... thorough was required here. He crossed what little space was left between them, and kept going, forcing her back towards the wall with the sheer size of his body. She was strong, but small, and her attempts to resist his herding left a nasty little smile tugging up the corner of his lips.   
  
She hit the wall with a solid thump, the pressure from J at her front almost squeezing the breath from her lungs. There was something about the whole thing that made her want to piddle in her panties, and something else that was dampening them in a very, very different manner. He'd discarded the bat, a small comfort, which she only noted because he had clasped one hand around her throat, just hard enough to make breathing a challenge, but not enough to suffocate, and the other was tangled in her pigtail, giving it a sharp tug so that she had to look at him.  
  
"Do you know how much work your little stunt has wasted? And what for? You get a little itch you thought maybe I could scratch for you?" The menace dripped off his words, like acid on her wounded heart. He sounded so harsh, so cold. His long fingers squeezed a little tighter around her throat as he released her hair. She couldn't see what was happening, but the rather familiar feel of a blade at her collar quickly gained her attention.  
  
Not breaking eye contact he hooked the blade under the collar of her top, wrenching it down her front in a single, violent motion. The cool evening air washed over her skin and she writhed in his hold. His intentions were impossible to discern as he dragged the blade across her exposed flesh, just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. It hurt more than it should, this particular blade wasn't that sharp, and that worried her more than the rest combined.  
  
"You've forgotten your place, pet. That vexes me. What's the point in all those months of training if you're just going to go ahead and /forget/ it whenever it seems convenient? Hmm?" She hoped to whatever God was listening that the question was rhetorical, because if she opened her mouth she was either going to moan in desire or squeak in terror, even she wasn't sure what would come out, but it sure as shooting wasn't going to be anything intelligible.  
  
The blade traced crimson patterns down her flesh as he waited. Not speaking, not demanding more from her, until it caught on her waistband. With an almost surgical detachment J gave the blade another tug, rending the fabric right down to the seam at her crotch. She could feel the pieced flutter to the ground around her ankles, the bright red of her panties darkened enough to demonstrate exactly what her body thought of this little show, even if her brain was trying to figure out how to escape.  
  
He tsked, shaking his head as his gaze flickered to the ruined garments on the floor for the briefest of moments. "You really are a twisted little toy, aren't you baby?" He purred in her ear, grinding himself against her, his crisp white shirt staining red where it pushed against her bloodied chest. She couldn't keep it in anymore, Harley moaned. Just a small sound that she desperately tried to choke back. The mercurial madman sharpened his gaze, something flickering behind those all too-clever eyes once more. "And whose little toy are you, cupcake?" He murmured, cheek still pressed tight to hers.  
  
"Y-yours M-mistah J..." Three simple words, but what they offered up was more than any person should give over to another. They both knew it, knew what she would do, had done, for him. He stepped back, his laugh slithering down his spine as she lost the support of his body, falling to her knees in a most ungraceful fashion. He regarded her coolly for a moment, then reached down, tangling his fingers in one of her pigtails again and dragging her across the room. She scrambled to keep up as much as possible, incapable of resisting as he tugged her up and planted her face first in the ruin she'd made of his computer.   
  
Bits of plastic and fiber optic glass embedded themselves in her face and shoulders as he tugged her hands up behind her, not letting her brace against the fall. It hurt, when her collarbone met the desk somewhere in the midst of the wreckage, and she couldn't help but cry out. That seemed to be what he was looking for, though, as he tightened his grip on her wrists, tugging them cruelly higher up her back.  
  
The sound of his zipper was as loud as a gunshot in the room, and she truly began to struggle. "Just tell me no, cupcake, and this can all go away. All I need to hear is a no..." He taunted. He was a villain of the worst calibre, but she wasn't sure what she was more afraid of, that he wouldn't stop if she said no, or if he would. Whatever it was, she didn't protest, biting her lip so hard it bled to keep from begging him to stop.  
  
She was so wet that even if he'd been inclined towards foreplay it wouldn't be needed, and he forced himself inside her with relative ease. J never did anything by half measures, and though he could have made this a quick thing, he was demonstrating to Harley exactly who was in charge here. Slow gentle strokes rocked her body, dragging her back and forth across the destroyed computer wasteland on the desk. Her face and chest hurt so bad, but low in her belly that familiar twisty feeling was taking over. He was relentless, never speeding up as he made sure to hit the sweet spot with each stroke. The hand not restraining her came down to draw figure eights over her clit, touches light as butterfly wings, enough to drive her to madness, but not quite over the edge.  
  
Three times he brought her so close she could taste it, despite the bits of laptop ground into her delicate flesh. Three times he had her squirming and moaning and /begging/ him to just let her cum. Through it all he was silent, though she felt the occasionally splash of sweat on her back that showed it was costing him /something/ to keep this pace. Finally, when she thought she was near about to die, he sped up. Her intimate flesh was throbbing with all the attention, gentle as it was. He leaned forward, breath hot on the back of her neck. "Now baby. Tell the world who owns you."  
  
She came, harder than she ever had, screaming his name. He kept the pace until she couldn't move anymore, and just lay boneless across the desk. Finally he withdrew his still rigid flesh, giving it a few quick strokes until he let loose his own release like a Jackson Pollock on her flushed flesh. He gave her rump a firm slap. "That's what I thought. Now clean this up and go get me another damn computer."


End file.
